


à la carte

by tagteamme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Fast Food, Humor, M/M, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Subtle Canadian References, Worse Wingmanship, when you try your best and you don't succeed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 01:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme
Summary: “Your apple strudels,” the waiter announces as he drops down a tray and picks up one of Matt’s empty ones. He's got a carefully neutral expression schooled on his face, and Shiro can hear the waiter’s internal screaming from here.No one currently sitting at the table enjoys apple strudels; Matt’s just ordering randomly because he wants the waiter to keep coming back to the table. Because out of all the shitty, off campus fast-food joints that they could have picked, they’ve somehow landed up at the one where Shiro's crush works.





	à la carte

**Author's Note:**

> Happy super belated birthday [spiftynifty!!](twitter.com/spiftynifty) Can't believe you're old enough to go on the internet unsupervised now, wow
> 
> We have a habit of speculating about extremely niche Sheith AUs. This is one of them, because I posted about table service at McD0nald'$ on twitter (and also the gourmet pastries) and everyone lost their mind (probably more over the gourmet pastries). I've also always wanted to do some sort of fast food sheith au...it's my right....my penance...

Shiro’s not quite sure who he’s going to kill first; Lotor, for wanting to go somewhere with table service despite being so drunk he can’t fully open his eyes or Matt, for bringing them here. He knows it’s a decision for sober Shiro, but currently he’s thinking about how he probably doesn’t have to choose because he’s got two hands.

“This still doesn’t count as ta- _hic_ \- table service,” Lotor grumbles loudly, his voice having long lost its refined edges. He sounds less like a posh international student and more like a petulant character off a children’s cartoon.

“Stop being a bitch,” Matt slurs more than says, and Shiro watches as he punches in an order for three buckets of nuggets on his phone. They’ve already got their second full meals set out in front of them and a couple more things on the way, but the last time Shiro reached for Matt’s phone to stop him from ordering extra sundaes, Matt swatted his hand and hissed like a cat. “This place totally counts.”

Lotor looks put out, but he also looks like he’s about to pass out. Despite this, he still has an air of disdain around him, even as he reaches over to add another large gingerale to the order.

Matt’s not wrong, not fully. The fast-food restaurant they’re currently sitting in has spent most of its life forgotten by both god and the local health inspector. Recently though, it’s had some upgrades. Aged paint has been replaced by fresh new walls and pillars have gone up, along with tall islands and bar stools. The oddly yellow tables where Shiro had planted his face on many times when he was drunk in freshman year have been replaced with light laminate wood, just in time for the start of his senior year, and there are booths instead of plastic chairs bolted down to the floor.

And they're _cushioned._

The biggest difference though, is that instead of having to go wait ten minutes in line and then ten minutes off to the side, the place now has some sort of pseudo-table service where you order from your phone and someone brings it to your table for you. Shiro’s not sure if they’re considered waiters or not, but Matt insists that they are.

Lotor has been trying to argue that he wants to go to an actual restaurant where they bring you appetizers and hot towels for your fingers, while Matt’s trying to argue that technically, all of them are fucking broke and it’s also three in the morning. Shiro had been quiet in the back of their Uber while they duked it out, focusing on staying present and pressing his head against the cool glass of the window.

But now, he’s sobered up a microscopic amount and is mostly ready to murder. It’s solely because--

“Your apple strudels,” the waiter announces as he drops down a tray and picks up one of Matt’s empty ones. He's got a carefully neutral expression schooled on his face, and Shiro can hear the waiter’s internal screaming from here.

No one currently sitting at the table enjoys apple strudels; Matt’s just ordering randomly because he wants the waiter to keep coming back to the table. Because out of all the shitty, off campus fast-food joints that they could have picked, they’ve somehow landed up at the one where one of Shiro’s classmates works.

And Matt and Lotor might be drunk enough that they had to stare at the seats for a good thirty seconds before finally sitting down, but they're extremely aware that the worker who's bringing out their food while dressed in a neatly pressed dress shirt, red tie and black pants is also the same classmate that Shiro's been holding a burning flame for since the beginning of the last school year.

Maybe too aware, because every fifteen minutes, Matt orders something new to bring to the table. Keith's apparently the only one out delivering food to tables, and he's looking at Matt the same way he looks at the guy in their class who won't stop interrupting the professor to argue.

“Sorry,” Shiro apologizes, and Keith turns to look at him. Familiarity makes the look around his eyes soften but he says nothing as he nods and turns on his heel and retreats back to the counter, where Shiro can hear someone from the back say an incredulous, “They ordered shit _again_?".

He watches mournfully as Keith leaves, but Shiro thinks he must still be too drunk because he finds that the high-waisted black pants are really doing it for him. It's a lot different than the nondescript jeans and dark shirts Keith wears in class, though those tend to send Shiro into a tailspin as well.

“Stop staring you weirdo, “ Matt flicks a fry at Shiro. It lands on his nose and sticks, the gravy on it acting like glue, and Shiro let's it stay there. “Ask him out so that I can stop blowing through my grocery money.”

“Not my problem,” Shiro says, the fry slowly sliding down the slope of his nose. He plucks it off and eats it, chewing loud enough for Lotor to give him a disgusted look. There’s no way they’re going to finish the entirety of all the food that they’ve ordered, but something that’s probably not as deep in Shiro as he’d like it to be, is happy that he gets to see his crush after getting completely sloshed at the popular local basement club. And that he gets to see him on Matt’s dime.

“If you don’t, I will,” Matt says, jabbing another fry in Shiro’s direction. “Ask him out for you, that is. Not for myself. He’s kind of terrifying.”

“No he’s not,” Shiro says and for good measure adds, “he’s handsome.”

Matt makes a gagging sound while Lotor’s eyes glaze over a little, like he’s just tried to project his soul out anywhere but here. The two of them have heard Shiro drunkenly wax lyrical about Keith multiple times, from detailing how luscious his dark black _not-a-mullet-guys-I-swear_ hair is to how he’s the only one in the class that gets marks as good as Shiro. Shiro thinks he also might have let slip where Keith works once, and maybe Matt’s choice in food joints wasn’t as accidental as he claims it was. If that’s the case, he is absolutely going to follow through in chewing Matt’s head off.

Keith is Shiro’s friend, Shiro’s pretty sure. They’ve studied together a few times and during one of those times, Keith had brought them both coffee. Keith’s also idly chatted with Shiro during class, mostly to show him pictures of his giant half-chow half-husky mix doing tricks. Keith could talk about the amount of steps it takes for him to walk from the bus stop to his class and Shiro would be enraptured. Shiro knows he’s got it bad, and fully has plans to ask Keith out proper.

Had. Had plans. Until this very moment, where Matt and Lotor have made sure that they are the most annoying group of customers ever.

Shiro watches as Keith walks over to the table with a dark look and a tray overloaded with chicken nuggets. He tries to look apologetic but Keith levels the entire table with the same look he had directed specifically towards Matt before, and Shiro withers on the inside. He won’t be surprised if Keith never wants to talk to him again. He won’t be surprised if Keith moves his seat to the other end of the lecture hall, if Keith never shows him a video of Kosmo again. He won’t be surprised if half his inner dramatics are coming from the fact that he’s more beer and tequila right now than human.

Keith sets the tray down gingerly, but doesn’t leave immediately. He doesn’t give the polite but stilted “Anything else?” that he normally gives either. He stares at the trio and Shiro feels whatever daydream he had of asking Keith out to the cute Moroccan cafe on the edge of town chip away with each passing second.

“Are you actually going to eat all of this?” Keith asks, somewhat incredulously. The question is directed towards Matt and Lotor specifically and Shiro’s glad because the amount of barbed edge in Keith’s voice would make a lesser - or infatuated - man want to evaporate.

“I paid for it, didn’t I?” Lotor bites back, but before Shiro can interrupt them with a good-natured “dude shut _up,_ ” Matt butts in with a “No, _I_ paid for it.”

Keith looks like he wants to say something else and Shiro desperately wants to reach out and put his hand on Keith’s shoulder. It calls to him like a siren, and he’s already done it once before after they both aced their last test. Keith had been fine with it then-- however, if Shiro reaches out for him right now, he might land his hand somewhere more inopportune like his back. And if he stands up, he’s probably going to keel right over. So Shiro sits there and watches as Keith finally shrugs, gives a non-committal “ok”, and walks away.

God, those pants are looking way better than they have any right to.

“You’re gross,” Matt and Lotor both inform him, and Shiro clamps his mouth shut. He casts a frantic look in Keith’s direction, but he doesn’t seem to have heard Shiro’s accidental drunk ramble. Instead, he picks up an empty cup from near the condiments, and walks past the swinging door of the counter.

His other two colleagues crowd him, glaring directly at Shiro’s table. One of them’s got a yellow headband on, and the other one is a tweedy man that’s giving Shiro specifically a stare down from behind unevenly cut bangs. Keith waves a hand in front of the man with the weird bangs, and the man smacks it out of the way to continue staring Shiro down.

They’re all probably incredibly agitated that Matt won’t stop ordering stuff-- even now, Matt’s asking Lotor if he’ll split a super-sized poutine with him. The two of them are sitting with their backs to the counter, so it’s Shiro who’s got to face the brunt of the staredown. He’s not really the type to posture, but the way the two other guys are watching him without blinking is making Shiro itch. And so he gets an idea.

Shiro takes his soda and drains half of it so that he doesn’t stink completely of booze and sweat when he goes up. He slides out of his booth, steadying himself against the table and ignoring Matt asking him what he’s planning on doing. Shiro brushes crumbs off the front of his shirt and straightens up. He feels a little woozy but it’s fine, because the booth to counter distance isn’t too much to begin with.

Shiro approaches the counter, and immediately the leaner guy blinks and starts to step back, hiding behind the man with the yellow headband whose name-tag reads _Hunk_. He clears his throat, trying to get some of the heaviness of the booze out of it before he speaks, and Hunk shrinks back too. The only one who remains motionless is Keith, who wipes down the counter with a bemused expression.

“Everything good?” Keith asks as Shiro advances towards him. Keith’s pulled his hair back in a ponytail under his uniform cap, and Shiro’s growing extremely concerned with how much this look works for him. He’s going to need to do some heavy self-examining after this, but for now, Shiro digs into his back pocket.

Technically, he owes this money to Matt for paying for Shiro’s cover. And for buying dinner on Monday and Thursday. And for the cab they took last week. But every time Shiro’s tried to give Matt the money, Matt waves him off and tells him to give it at a more convenient time that never comes, so Shiro figures he’s got to put it to some better use.

“Thanks for tolerating us,” Shiro says, sliding three twenties across the counter. Keith’s eye twitches at the bills, as he reaches for them.

And then pushes them back.

“We don’t take tips here,” he says, but the corner of his mouth twitches. Immediately, his tweedy friend springs up from behind him and snatches up the money.

“We definitely do,” he says, and Keith swats at him, trying to get the cash back from him.

“Hey!” Keith says, trying to swipe the bills. “We don’t!”

“Says who?” the other guy replies petulantly, and Keith gets a stern look on his face. He shoots a quick look around the store, making brief eye contact with Shiro before he launches forward and jabs his coworker in the sides with his fingers. His coworker squawks and drops the money, and Keith ducks behind the counter briefly before reemerging with the bills.

“I do appreciate the thought though,” Keith says as he leans forward and takes Shiro’s metal hand. He uncurls the fingers and presses the bills into it before patting Shiro’s palm. Shiro’s having a hard time not hyperfocusing on the action, nor hyperfocusing on how adorable Keith looks with his hat slightly skewed and black bangs peeking out from under.

Shiro says nothing for a moment and wonders if he just throws the bills and runs, would they be forced to keep it. Surprisingly, the easier solution of just slipping it into Keith’s backpack during their Tuesday afternoon class makes itself known fairly quickly to Shiro, and he’s saved the trouble of violently embarrassing himself.

“I’m sorry either ways,” Shiro says instead, and gives Keith a small salute. He’s still not got full motor control, part because of the booze and part because of Keith’s presence, so he ends up poking himself in the eye. But Keith returns the action with a crooked grin and one of his own and Shiro counts that as a small victory.

Shiro retreats backwards to his booth, because if he turns on his heel he might get nauseous, but both of Keith’s coworkers stare him down again. Shiro can see Keith telling them to go back to work, and Matt kicks him from underneath the table.

“Did you ask him out?” he asks, and there’s a splotch of ketchup on his cheek. The ends of Lotor’s hair are streaked yellow with the same mustard he’s dumped over his nuggets, and both of them look expectantly at Shiro.

“I tried to tip him,” Shiro says, and Matt groans loudly while Lotor rolls his eyes. “What? It’s the right thing to do.”

“You’re supposed to give him your number,” Lotor says, and Matt nods along. “ _That’s_ the right thing to do.”

“He has my number,” Shiro says flatly, and Matt scoffs.

“Then ask him out on a date,” Matt over-emphasizes the t and Shiro feels a bit of spittle land on his face.

“Not when I’m like this,” Shiro says as firmly as he can, doing his best to enunciate each word. “I gotta wait till I’m sober.”

“So that you can chicken out again?” Matt shakes his head. He goes visibly green at the action, but soldiers on and raises a hand, snapping his fingers to get Keith’s attention. Immediately, Shiro lunges across the table to yank him down by the elbow.

“I’ll kill you,” Shiro hisses, and Matt just barks out a laugh in his direction. “Stop embarrassing me in front of him.”

“Stop being obvious about checking out the waiter then,” Lotor says primly, and Shiro flushes red. He’s about to shoot something back to Lotor, but someone else cuts him off instead.

“Assistant manager actually,” Keith replies from behind them, holding his tenth tray of the night. It’s got one lone coffee on it, along with a chocolate croissant. Shiro doesn’t remember ordering this, but it _is_ what he brings to class every morning, along with an extra pastry for Keith.

Shiro gets a pleasant feeling about this, which lasts a full blissful second before he’s suddenly hit with so much mortification that his entire body goes rigid. He stays leaning over the table as he feels his face go a furious red, and looks helplessly at Matt. Matt’s eyes are blown wide and he’s wearing a large, open-mouthed grin like he can’t believe he gets to witness this. There’s a curl of a smile across Lotor’s face, and Shiro wishes very much for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

“Noted,” Lotor says, voice dripping with glee and not even pretending to be bored. “Stop being obvious about checking out the _assistant manager_ , Shiro.”

Shiro’s going to kill him and Matt both. One hand around each neck. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this red or hot under the collar in his life, and he’s pretty sure the heat’s reached his scalp. Slowly, and with a great amount of trepidation, Shiro turns to look up at Keith to apologize profusely for-- well, _everything,_  and to ask him to please forget everything that ever happened in the past hour. But when he sees Keith, Keith’s looking down at him with twinkling eyes and a smile that almost looks fond.

Shiro also could very well be just still out of it, but for the sake of his own sanity, he’s going to go with fond.

“Are you still drunk?” Keith asks, and Shiro nods furiously.

“Very much so,” Shiro says, but when he sees the look on Keith’s face drop by a fraction, he immediately rushes out a, “But I do it when I’m sober too.”

Shiro makes a note to never drink this much again. Keith looks bewildered for a second, and raises an eyebrow. “Do what?”

“Check you out,” Matt supplies helpfully and Shiro’s fingers do a violent twitch. “What? You gotta tell the man the truth.”

Keith’s gone pink now too, the colour rising high on his cheeks. He sets down the tray, and digs into his back pocket. Shiro tracks the action with his eyes, and only belatedly tries to not make it too obvious that he was staring at Keith’s ass.  

“It’s okay,” Keith says, pulling out a marker. “You’re allowed to check me out.”

Shiro blinks. The goofy expression makes itself known on Matt’s face again, and Lotor takes a loud slurping sip out of his drink. Keith stretches out his hand, and wiggles his fingers expectantly. Shiro raises his own, and places his left hand in Keith’s, unsure of what’s happening right now.

“I already have your number,” Shiro says faintly as he feels the cold press of marker against his skin. Keith pauses for a second to shoot Shiro an amused look, and Shiro quickly corrects himself. “I mean, it’s okay. You can give it to me again. Please give it to me again.”

Keith shakes his head and drops Shiro’s hand, before tucking the marker behind his ear. He picks up one of the empty trays, and tips his hat towards them.

“Have a good night guys,” he says. “Shiro.”

Matt beams at him, Lotor gives him a smile, and Shiro waves weakly as Keith retreats back to his counter. He watches as Keith hops over the swinging door instead of walking through it, and watches as his coworkers lean in to listen to Keith say something before they start clapping his back and going “ _oh shit!”_ with their hands cupped over their mouths.

They shoot a gleeful look over at Shiro, the diametric opposite of the way they had been staring at him early, and he sinks back into his seat. Keith turns to look at him, and this time Shiro makes sure he gives him a proper wave. As he does, he catches the writing on the back of his hand. Written in bold, black letters is a,

 

_CALL ME - KEITH_

 

in Keith’s neat and blocky handwriting. Keith disappears into the back, and Shiro doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or temporarily relieved.

“Not bad, eh?” Matt wriggles his eyebrows. “Eh?”

“Sleep with one eye open,” Shiro threatens for good measure anyways, because he knows that the first thing he’s going to feel in the morning is a paralyzing amount of mortification along with a pounding headache, and the first two people he’s going to blame is Matt and Lotor. Shiro knows he’s a grown man, a college senior that’s made his home comfortably on the dean’s list, but he’d rather die than take responsibility for any part of this situation. This night has easily shot to the top of Shiro’s list of embarrassing nights, and he’s not quite sure if it’s something he’ll want to relive regularly.

But the words scribbled across the back of his hand, along with the wobbly smiley face beside it, will make it all worth it.

  


**Author's Note:**

> come tell me about your unique fast food experiences (i'm not kidding) [blogē](http://phaltu.tumblr.com) or on my [tweeter](https://twitter.com/tagteamme) or on my [ fort of pillows ](https://pillowfort.io/phaltu)
> 
> also please check out this amazing [drawing done by the_shadowking](https://twitter.com/the_shadowking/status/1113106260205895682) of Lotor!!! BIG LOVE


End file.
